An Ever Changing Life
by Victoria May
Summary: Blair reappears after mysteriously disappearing three years ago. Where was he and how will he cope with all the new changes in his life?


DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters belong to PetFly Productions. No profit is being made from the creation of this story and it is freely shared for entertainment purposes only.  
  
An Ever Changing Life  
Chapter One  
By: Victoria May  
  
I limped through the open doorway and paused. The bullpen was busy as usual. Civilian aides threw files onto desks and retrieved files and mail from others. Uniforms dotted the unit, transporting prisoners back and forth. And visitors blended with the plain-clothes detectives scattered throughout the bullpen.   
  
I almost expected to hear 'hairboy!' shouted across the wide space, and bit down on my disappointment when, of course, it didn't come. I hadn't expected to be here today, or ever, so it shouldn't have been a surprise when no one rushed to greet me.   
  
I tightened my hold on the bundle in my arms and shifted my weight from my damaged leg. Wearily, I cast my gaze across the room, scanning each face, hoping to find someone I recognized. So many new faces. They can't all be gone-it'd only been three years.   
  
Finally, my eyes came to rest on the bald, coffee colored head of a man I'd once known. H. Thank god-someone I knew. I'd begun to limp over to my friend when I was bumped from behind. Strong hands grabbed my arms, to stop my downward decent. Jerked back to my feet, I clutched tightly the child I was carrying.   
  
"Sorry," a strange voice offered as my back was patted and the officer who'd attempted to knock me off my feet departed.   
  
I leaned over slightly; my knee was throbbing now and I really needed to sit down. I glanced back to H's desk and found it empty. Cursing silently, I gritted my teeth and tried to find him again in the melee. Unsuccessful, I wished that the man I really wanted to see was near. But his desk, or what had been his desk the last time I set foot here, was empty.   
  
My knee sang with renewed pain and I closed my eyes, parting my lips to release short, panting breaths. I jerked when I felt a gentle touch on my arm.  
  
"Are you all right?" a pleasant, feminine voice asked gently.  
  
I knew that voice! My eyes snapped open and I found myself staring into familiar brown eyes.  
  
"Rhonda?" I asked, relief washing over me. Finally, a friend.  
  
Recognition dawned on the woman's face and she drew back in disbelief. "Blair?" Her voice was loud with shock and seemed to echo through the bullpen. "Oh my god! We thought you were dead! Are you all right? Where have you been? Does Captain Banks know you're here?" The questions flowed, without a pause between them to allow me to speak.  
  
The voices around us seemed to grow in intensity and I could hear the muffled sounds of one man's attempt to reach us. Finally, a body brushed against me and I turned my face to see H. standing next to me.  
  
"Shit! Sandburg! Where the hell have you been?" The detective's voice faltered and then flared again with renewed intensity. "Oh man! Do not tell me you left. Do not tell me that! You fucking took off and left us all hanging." The man's usually pleasant voice, one that had so quickly imparted snappy witticisms, was now dark with loathing.   
  
I shook my head in frantic denial. "No!" I tried to forceful, but the word only came out as a shocked whisper. I wanted to explain; I wanted to let them know that it wasn't what it looked like. I tried to make my mouth open, make my lips form words, but I was frozen in the face of such hatred where I had expected to find peace.  
  
"How could you do that? How? Do you know how long we looked for you? Did you even think of Jim-even once? Did you bother to wonder what hell he might be going through, thinking you were dead?" The rant continued and pulsed in my ears. It was soon matched in intensity by the advancing roar in my eardrums and the frantic beating of my heart. I could feel the muscles in my good leg beginning to quiver and I looked for a nearby chair.   
  
"I need to sit down," I finally managed to gasp.  
  
H.'s rant faltered when he finally noticed the brace on my leg and the child in my arms.  
  
"Sure, sure," he hastily said, dragging over a chair from a neighboring desk. I collapsed into it, my weakened muscles able to give way at last.   
  
"Thanks," I gasped, fighting for breath. I hadn't had a panic attack in years-not since my trek across the Chilean countryside. I hunched over the small figure in my arms, embracing her as I struggled to control my racing heart. I wasn't able to control my cringe when a strong hand clamped down on my shoulder.  
  
"Sandburg?"  
  
Simon! I jerked my head up and met the rich brown eyes with my own, stinging orbs. I blinked rapidly, trying to chase away the tears I could feel gathering. I don't know what I expected, but to be wrapped in two strong arms and held tightly wasn't it. I melted into the embrace, hiding my face in the older man's shirt as a sob erupted. I could feel the arms tugging me up, out of the chair and I covered my face with my hand as I was led into the privacy of the captain's office.  
  
I was eased down into another chair, my lame leg stretched out before me. I lowered my head, pressing my face into my daughter's soft curls. I could hear Simon dictating orders: 'find Ellison' and 'get me some water' barked to the gathering crowd. Then the door was closed and the blinds were drawn.   
  
Rosalita was amazingly quiet throughout all of this. I worried that the shock of the sudden plane ride, crowded airports, and now this insanity was somehow harming her. But she seemed content to just cling to my shirtfront and watch the world go by. I wished I had her ability to bounce back so easily. Instead, there I sat, quivering like jello, tears streaming down my face.  
  
I kept my head lowered and listened to the sound of another chair being dragged next to the one I was seated in. I could feel the warmth seep through my linen pants as Simon sat close enough that our legs touched. I released an exhausted sigh as I was drawn into the embrace of the other man's arms once again.   
  
Finally, I was home.  
  
After a few minutes-I was amazed that Simon could stand to hug me for so long-I pushed away from Simon and wiped my face with my shirtsleeve. "Sorry," I mumbled, embarrassed at falling apart so completely.  
  
And then Simon laughed, a half chuckle, half sob. "Geez, I missed you kid."  
  
I had to be dreaming. Simon Banks, the ferocious captain of Major Crimes, admitting he missed me. Puny, annoying, always underfoot, observer, me. I smiled my first real smile in two months.  
  
"Just tell me one thing," Simon said, sitting back in his chair and staring at me hard, as if trying to see into my soul. "Just tell me that you didn't walk away."  
  
A pain so sharp, I thought my heart had finally gave way, tore through my chest. It was a fair question-one I was sure everyone who had caught sight of me in the bullpen was wondering the answer to. How could they not?  
  
I wasn't dead, for one thing. I walked into the bullpen under my own free will for another. My clothes weren't in tatters. They were, in fact, clean and conspicuously expensive. Light beige linen pants matched with a royal blue silk button down shirt. My hair was neat and trimmed tidily, close my scalp. And in my arms, I carried an obviously well cared for little girl. Not exactly the spitting image of a kidnap victim.  
  
But that was exactly what I was. Mutely, I shook my head and turned away from Simon. I wasn't even close to being capable of using words at that moment.  
  
I was spared doing exactly that when the door flew open with a force that sent it slamming into the filing cabinet behind it. Startled, Rosie's small body jerked in my arms and she screamed her displeasure loudly. Her sobs were a soothing balm to my soul as they were the first real sounds she'd made since being delivered back into my arms in the first class section of Chilean Air, flight 474.  
  
Cradling the screaming toddler in my arms, I patted her back and stared over her head at the figure looming in the doorway. I'd waited three years for this, to see my best friend again. I'd given up hope of ever seeing him, joking with him, sharing a meal with him. Guiding him. I wanted to jump up and run into the arms of my friend, but my exhaustion kept me firmly seated. Instead, I smiled and held out my hand, finally finding my words.  
  
"Jim."  
  
"Sandburg," he said, his voice icy. His eyes pierced mine and I shrunk back, suddenly feeling like the lowest of the scum on the streets. Did no one have faith in me? Did they all believe that I would just up and leave with no word to anyone?   
  
Simon stepped forward and took the detective by his arm, pulling him into the office and shutting the door. "Jim," he snapped, his jaw clenched tightly. "He didn't leave-not on purpose."  
  
It hurt to listen to men who I had once called 'friend', speak about me as if I weren't here. As if I couldn't speak for myself.  
  
"I was kidnapped," I blurted, startling myself as much as the other two men. "I didn't have a choice," I added lamely.   
  
"You look like you tried real hard to get away," Jim said, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.  
  
I clenched my eyes closed, blocking out the sight of my friend, my soul brother, bristling with years of pent-up worry, fear, and anger. I hadn't had time to imagine my homecoming-my release having been so unexpected. But I would never have expected such a welcome as this.   
  
"Once," I said, hardening my heart to the pain of coming home to a life that no longer holds a place for me. "I tried once," I explained further. "It was enough."  
  
Jim's posture loosened, but I no longer cared. I was foolish to believe I could just walk back into my life and expect that nothing had changed. Everything was different. I was different.  
  
"Can you give a statement?" Simon asked gently.  
  
I pondered the question and shifted in my chair. The pain in my leg reawakened and I was growing increasingly concerned at my daughter's silence.  
  
"I think," I paused, "we need to go to the hospital."  
  
"What!" Simon exclaimed, reaching for his phone.  
  
"No ambulance!" I protested. "I made it here on my own two feet, and I can make it there on my own as well." After having all my movements watched and critiqued, and having normal everyday things, like using the phone or email or even going for a walk denied me, I was relishing in my newfound freedom.  
  
"You sure?" Simon asked, his hand still clutching the phone receiver.  
  
I nodded and struggled to stand. Jim finally broke out of his stupor and stepped forward to help me. I nearly whimpered at the feel of his hand on my arm as he supported me.   
  
"Can you carry her?" Jim asked, his hand still resting on my elbow.   
  
"Yeah," I said, handing him the black carry-on bag I'd hauled with us from Chile. I thought I'd lost her for good after the accident and they wouldn't let me see her. Two months-two fucking long months of wondering if I would ever see her again. I wasn't letting her out of my sight again.  
  
The walk down to the parking garage was slow going. I held my head high as we passed through the same mottle of officers that had stared and whispered after they realized who I was. I tried not to flinch when the pain radiated up from my knee, making me struggle for balance and above all else, to stay conscious.  
  
We rode in silence and I was relieved when we finally pulled up to the emergency entrance of Cascade General. I waited while Jim hopped out and grabbed the first wheelchair he could find. I was glad for the ride; I wasn't looking forward to walking any distance for a long, long time.  
  
From the black bag, I presented medical records from my time in Chile. I had been surprised to find my records as well as Rosalita's in the bag, along with her birth certificate, my doctorate, and passports for both of us in the mysterious bag that was presented to me on the airplane with my daughter. The bag also held a bankbook with a sum of money, and my identifying information.  
  
Rosie was first to be examined, at my insistence. I waited in the examination room and was relieved when she was declared healthy. She was slightly dehydrated and I felt ashamed at hearing that. I knew I hadn't been as attentive as I should have been during our journey from South America. As for her silence, the doctor explained that children were often highly in tune with their parents, and upon hearing the brief explanation that I had been kidnapped and we had been apart for two months, explained that she was probably as much in shock as I was. Lots of hugs and TLC were prescribed for that ailment.   
  
I was examined next. New x-rays were taken of my knee and leg and an MRI scan was done as well. These were compared to x-rays included with my medical records and it was determined that no new damage had been done. My new knee was holding up well, and the break showed no signs of weakness. The pain and swelling was from walking on my leg so soon after surgery without crutches. I was scolded for even being mobile and I apologized silently for fleeing my prison of three years.   
  
My lab results showed no sign of infection around the new joint and I was otherwise healthy. I was released with a prescription of antibiotics and heavy duty pain killers and ordered to report to my physician for a full work up and possible arthroscopy if my knee didn't show dramatic improvement in the next day or two.   
  
And so I was released into the care of Jim and Simon. I stood awkwardly, balancing on my shiny new crutches, as I waited for Simon to strap Rosie into the car seat he had gone out and bought while we were being examined. I was touched by this show of kindness and gratefully folded my body into the backseat with my charge. It was difficult-I had to stretch my leg across the floor with my body turned, but I couldn't bring myself to part even that far from her, as to sit in the front, facing away from her.   
  
"So, where to?" I asked, leaning forward a bit on the back of Simon's seat.  
  
Jim looked guilty as he turned to face me. "I'm sorry Blair," he said, and he even sounded sorry, surprising me after his attitude earlier in Simon's office. "I turned your room into an office. I couldn't handle seeing your things there anymore and finally gave them to your mom."  
  
"Oh," I said, disappointed. "Um, I guess I can call around, see if anyone is willing to put us up." I leaned back and turned to look out the window. It felt like déjà vu as I saw so many familiar places flying past. I wondered who I could call. Jim was my closest friend-I was ashamed to admit, if only to myself, that I had let most of my friendships flounder when I began working with him.  
  
"You'll stay with me," Simon said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "I've got the room, and you're my friend too. I wouldn't have it any other way," he added.  
  
"Thanks Simon," I said quietly, my energy drained. "Oh!" I sat up and grabbed the seat ahead of me again. "Rosie needs diapers and food, and some clothes," I said, berating myself for neglecting my child once again.  
  
"Done," Simon said. "In the trunk. I picked up some stuff when I got the car seat. I got you a couple changes of clothes too," he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.  
  
"You didn't have to do that-clothes for me, that is," I said. "I'll pay you back."  
  
"Don't worry about it. Right now, I'm so glad you're alive, I'd buy you a diamond ring if you wanted it."  
  
"Really?" I asked, feigning some of my old enthusiasm.  
  
"No. But the sentiment's the same."  
  
We made it to Simon's house and I waited on the couch, with Rosie next to me on the floor in the carrier, while Jim and Simon brought in the wares. I was surprised to see the bulging bags, full of baby clothes, diapers, toys, food and not a few things for me as well. It all felt so surreal; I had to pinch myself to prove that I wasn't dreaming.  
  
Finally, the other two finished putting everything away and I was shown which room Rosie and I would be sharing. It wasn't Darryl's room, and for that I was grateful. I didn't think I could handle being wrapped in someone else's life like that.   
  
It was too early to go to bed, and I knew that the others wanted some sort of explanation. I shared a pizza with my friends and allowed Simon to bathe and diaper Rosie, since I was within eyesight of them. She was laid on the floor on a folded blanket while I stretched out on Simon's couch, my leg propped on a mound of pillows and topped with two icepacks.   
  
I glanced over at my audience and found them watching me intently. I wondered what they were expecting. I wondered what they would think after they heard what I was about to tell. Would they be disappointed? Could the life I've led the last three years be considered anything but willing? Would they believe that I had no choice but to let go of everything and everyone I had ever loved, and live a life I had forced upon me?  
  
Taking a deep breath, I began my tale.  
  
TBC 


End file.
